


Must Love Dogs

by thesaddestboner



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), Dog Walker Roman Josi, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Silly, Still a Hockey Player Shea Weber
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8130385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: The dogs take to the new dog walker right away, but Shea doesn’t trust him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pr_scatterbrain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_scatterbrain/gifts).



> I’m really sorry, this got a little rushed in my attempt to meet the deadline!!!! I wanted to write about mermen but I stalled out. :((
> 
> A million thanks to [**blastellanos**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/profile) for a speedy beta.
> 
> The title is from the movie (which I've never seen).
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

The dogs take to the new dog walker right away, but Shea doesn’t trust him. He’s way too pretty, looks more like a German runway model than a professional dog walker (glowing recommendations from Shea’s teammates notwithstanding). He’s impeccably dressed in a soft gray sweater and designer jeans, and he’s already covered in dog slobber. 

Dug and Rod seem to take to the dog walker— _Roman_ , Shea reminds himself—immediately, snuffling at him and shoving their cold wet noses into his empty hands. Shea watches silently, from the doorway, as the dogs crawl all over Roman, and wonders if he slathered his hands in wet food or peanut butter before he came by for the initial introduction. Either way, the boys seem to approve of him. Rod practically bowls him over, tap dancing on the kitchen tile and butting his head against Roman’s perfect jawline.

And Shea approves of him too, but that’s not what matters here. He didn’t hire this guy as eye candy, after all. That would just be silly.

“So,” Roman says, just turning his head to avoid getting a rubbery, slimy pink tongue in the eye, “my rates are in the brochure Nealer sent you. I think you’ll find we’re quite compatible.”

Shea leans away from the doorframe and forcibly reminds himself that Roman is talking about the dog walking and not—anything else. “Right, yeah, of course,” he says, meandering over to give Dug a rub behind one of his ears. “I think this is gonna work out just fine. Dug and Rod seem to love you.”

Roman grins and pushes himself to his feet, extending a hand to Shea. “If you don’t mind, I’d like for you to join us on our first walk. I find it helps with separation anxiety.”

Shea pumps Roman’s hand and hikes an eyebrow at him. “Separation anxiety?”

“Dogs can get a little anxious sometimes without their human around. Might help them get used to me if you’re there for the first walk,” Roman says, shrugging.

Shea’s left his dogs with too many dogsitters to be named and never had a problem before. But Roman is pretty hot, so he feels inclined to agree with him on this. 

“Sure,” he says, hoping he isn’t _too_ transparent. “Is this what you did with Nealer and Mike and Carrie?”

“Oh yes,” Roman says, beaming at Shea. “Mike and Carrie still send me a card every Christmas.”

Shea glances down at Dug and Rod. The dogs look up at him, tails thumping on the kitchen floor. 

“Alright,” Shea nods, “sounds like a plan.” 

Roman grins and, apparently unable to contain his excitement any longer, punches Shea lightly in the shoulder. “I’ll be right back. I just have to get leads and some snacks from my truck.”

Shea watches after him and, once he’s out the front door, glances back down at the dogs. Rod nudges against the back of Shea’s hand and snuffs at his fingers.

“You guys like him? Think we should keep him around?” Shea asks.

Dug rubs up against Shea’s thigh and he indulges him with some back scratches. 

Maybe it won’t be so bad.

***

The four of them set off on a leisurely stroll through Shea’s neighborhood. Shea needs all of ten minutes to see that Roman’s got a way with dogs or, at least, his dogs. Both Rod and Dug get a little rambunctious sometimes, getting distracted by squirrels or cats or other dogs out for walks with their humans, but not with Roman. They listen to all of his gentle commands and Shea’s honestly impressed. He’s never known his dogs to be this well-behaved.

“You must get the Dog Whisperer thing a lot, huh?” Shea asks, slowing his pace a bit as they approach his driveway.

The closer they get to the house, the less Shea wants the walk to be over. Maybe they could take another stroll around the block, until the dogs tire themselves out or Shea tires himself out, or gets tired of admiring Roman’s jawline.

Roman looks over at him and smiles. “Not as much as you’d think.”

Shea smiles back and winds Dug’s lead around his hand. Dug pulls on him in response. “Where are you off to after this?”

“I’ve got a couple in Franklin I’m meeting with later tonight. I’m gonna be working with their Pomeranian, Dudley.” 

Shea pushes away the irrational pang of spite he feels toward this couple and their dog. “You must be in high demand, I take it,” Shea says, trying for smooth and not overly interested in the attractive dog walker.

“It pays the bills,” Roman says, pausing next to Shea next to his mailbox. They both look up at the house at the end of the driveway, nearly hidden behind a cluster of evergreens. 

“I guess this is it,” Shea says, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “How much do I owe you for today?”

“This one’s on the house. I’ll be back tomorrow morning at the same time?” Roman asks.

Shea glances at the house before flicking his eyes back on Roman. They’ve got some time. He’s gonna go for it. 

_It’s 2-2, game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. Shea’s bearing down on the opponent’s goalie. He winds up for a slapshot form the point—_

“Actually… You want to come in for some coffee?” Shea asks.

Roman blinks, eyes widening in surprise. “Y-you mean, with you?” he stammers.

_The shot pings harmlessly off the post and into the groaning crowd._

Shea resists the urge to cuff him on the back of the head like he might with one of his teammates. “Who else would I be inviting?” 

“I mean, it’s just… You’re _Shea Weber_.”

“That would be me.” Shea smirks a little, his ego appreciating the boost. He also feels a little better about his chances now. Roman might be the hottest person Shea’s ever laid eyes on, but Roman’s apparently just as impressed by him too. 

Roman smiles gratefuly. “I’d love to!”

“Excellent, I—” Shea motions for Roman to follow him into the house. 

“But I can’t.” Roman’s smile turns apologetic, almost sad, the corners drooping. “It would be inappropriate, since I’m basically your employee. If anyone found out, I could lose my job.”

“Oh. Right, that.” Shea lets out a long, disappointed breath, deflating like a balloon. “Yeah. Uh… Sorry. For putting you in a tough position.”

“It’s okay.” Roman hands Rod’s lead over to Shea and pulls a pair of shiny metallic sunglasses out of the back pocket of his jeans. He slides them on backwards, and maybe he’s not as perfect as Shea initially thought. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Shea echoes.

Shea watches as Roman walks to his truck and climbs in. A few minutes later, he glances down at the dogs. He thinks he can detect a little bit of sympathy in their eyes. Or maybe he’s just projecting human emotions on a couple of dogs who are really just eyeing the treats he’s carrying in his pockets.

“I guess it wasn’t mean to be, fellas,” he says.

Rod and Dug don’t answer. Shea lets them tug him up the driveway and into the house.

***

The next morning, Roman shows up a bit early while Shea’s putting together a lunch to take with him to the team’s training facility. Shea lets him into the house and then returns to finish packing up his lunch, while Roman holds court with Dug and Rod in the foyer.

Roman looks a little troubled. Shea tries not to read too much into that. He shouldn’t pry, anyway, being Roman’s client and all.

When Shea finally emerges, Roman is on one knee, letting Rod paw at him while Dug sniffs at his hair. Shea stands back in the doorway a little bit, watching the scene unfold, before joining them.

“Hey,” Shea greets him, coming over and stooping down to scratch Rod behind the ear.

“I wasn’t exactly honest with you the other day,” Roman says, in lieu of a greeting.

Shea stops in his tracks, hand poised over Rod’s head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I can’t actually get in trouble for seeing you or anything,” he says, sighing heavily and pushing himself to his feet. He brushes his hands off on his pants and shoves them into his pockets. 

“I’m not sure I follow.” Shea resumes scratching Rod behind his ear.

“I said that because I had a bad experience before, with a client,” Roman admits, shifting over until his shoulder bumps lightly into Shea’s.

“It wasn’t one of my teammates, was it?” Shea asks. He’s not sure if he should lean away and give Roman some space, or if he should bump him back, lean against Roman’s shoulder a little bit.

“No! No, this was a few years ago. It wasn’t _awful_ , I just decided I shouldn’t mix business and pleasure, but…” Roman trails off.

Shea can see him glance toward him out of the corner of his eyes. He’s standing very near now, and the smell of his cologne tickles at Shea’s nose. Roman’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans today, nothing special, but he still looks well-tailored and put together. And Shea would like nothing more than to ruffle him up a little bit, if Roman would let him. 

“But?” Shea prompts.

“I like you. I’d like to get coffee with you,” Roman says.

“Your boss won’t be pissed off you’re fraternizing with a client?” Shea asks.

“She won’t be jumping for joy or throwing confetti if that’s what you mean, but I can handle it,” he says and, for the first time that morning, smiles. 

He’s got a brilliant smile, Shea decides. He reaches out and touches Roman tentatively on the arm. Roman looks down, for a moment, before meeting Shea’s eyes.

“How about we meet up after I get back from morning skate,” Shea suggests, leaving his hand there, fingers splayed over Roman’s arm. “We could go out for dinner later. Like, an actual date.”

“An actual date, huh.”

Roman’s brilliant smile widens and Shea feels a dozen—no, a hundred tiny roman candles go off somewhere inside his chest. 

“Yep.” Shea nudges Roman in the shoulder and Roman nudges him back.

“I would like that.”

Shea finally shakes off the last shreds of restraint and drops his arm casually behind Roman’s shoulders. Roman presses back against his arm a little bit, not much but just enough, and it’s nice. It’s good. Standing there with Roman and the dogs feels good. Like there isn’t anything else Shea would rather be doing, besides hockey. Maybe, in another life, they could have even been teammates.

“Good,” Shea says, “me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


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